


What Is My Life?

by KiwiBerry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ficlets, M/M, oneshots, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a bunch of oneshot prompts I got on tumblr and decided to share with all of you! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick prompt fill for a Pocket! Jean and Marco fluffiness :)

"I told you not to-"

"Shut it."

Marco closed his mouth instinctively, lips turning downward as he stared at the tiny person on his desk.

"I was just going to say, Jean, that you shouldn’t have told that fortune teller to eat her own fortunes is all," he stumbled out, making sure to fit all the words in before he could be stopped. 

"Bite me," Jean replied, trying his best to raise his voice high enough so Marco could know how angry he was. He sighed then though, his voice barely audible, and scuffed his shoe against the desk. 

Marco squatted down, bending over so he was at eye level with Jean on the desk, “Hey. Don’t worry. We’ll fix it, yeah?”

Jean looked up, digging his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, “Yeah, okay.”

"Trust me," Marco assured, smiling wide. Jean turned away, a small flush developing across his face. Marco stood up then, straightening himself out, and began to walk away. He was almost in the doorway to the next room when he paused, taking a moment to look back over at Jean who still stood awkwardly on the table.

"You can’t move on your own, can you?"

Jean huffed, annoyed, “I can too! It just might take a while…”

Marco laughed before turning around, placing his hand palm up on the desk next to Jean. Jean gave him a look like he was crazy.

"I’m not letting you manhandle me, Marco," he said, crossing his arms defiantly. 

Marco rolled his eyes, “Okay. Should I prepare dinner for tomorrow morning then? Or will take it take you longer than that to get to the kitchen?”

Jean frowned before reluctantly stepping into Marco’s hand, “I don’t know why everything thinks you’re such a sweet guy. You’re nothing but an asshole to me.”

Marco ignored the comment and allowed Jean to get comfortable, sitting down and leaning against the bottom of Marco’s palm, before moving away from the desk and into the kitchen. Once there, he lowered Jean onto the counter before searching through the cupboards, each one just as empty as the last. Marco frowned at the empty space.

"Jean, we need more-"

When Marco looked over at Jean, he found him missing. Searching around for a moment, he heard a small sneeze come from his left and, following it, he found Jean trying to look casual from his position inside a small tissue box near the coffee maker. 

"Did you just fall into a tissue box?" Marco asked, feeling a laugh bubbling up inside him. He covered his mouth at the last moment, however, much to Jean’s relief.

"No," Jean lied, scrambling for purchase on the thin cardboard and hauling himself up and over the edge before dropping back onto the counter, "I just, uh, needed a tissue?"

Marco nodded, not believing the other in the least, before returning to the empty cabinets, “Well, we still need food. Apparently you don’t like to store food like normal human beings.”

"Don’t insult my living habits!" Jean shouted, "I let you into my house, so you can stuff it."

Usually Marco would have snapped back, but Jean’s voice was too tiny and cute to even consider being mad at and, instead, he walked away only to return with his jacket on. 

"Come on," Marco motioned, resting his hand palm up on the counter, "We need to go the store."

Jean eyed Marco and then his hand before begrudgingly stepping into it. This time, however, Marco deposited him in his jacket pocket. Jean let out a grunt of disapproval as he was swallowed by the thick fabric, before resurfacing at the pockets edge. 

"I hate you," was all he said, taking a moment to glare at other before disappearing back into the pocket where Marco was sure he was grumbling about him. 

A couple hours later, after a quick trip to the grocery store, almost losing Jean between the seat cushions in the car, and making dinner, Jean and Marco sat quietly on the couch, some TV show projecting large shadows against the walls as the sound of laughing echoed quietly in the room. Jean sat upon Marco’s shoulder, having denied the offer to sit in Marco’s lap instead, and was slowly falling asleep when he felt Marco shift underneath him.

"Mar…?" came the half-asleep question, a slur of words on Jean’s tongue as Marco lifted him gently and stood, turning off the TV before heading for the bedroom. 

"Guess it’s time for bed, huh?" Marco smiled, to which Jean nodded sleepily.

Inside the room, Marco turned on a small lamp by Jean’s bed before depositing him onto one of the pillows the other had thrown haphazardly onto the mattress. Jean sighed happily, letting his body melt into the soft pillow, before opening one eye and watching Marco move to leave.

”..Can sleep ‘ere if you wan’,” Jean said, a yawn following soon after as he buried his head into the pillow, “Couch is ‘tiff.”

Marco paused, raising an eyebrow in consideration, before accepting the offer graciously. He tried his best to move as lightly as possible, hoping not to disturb Jean too much, before collapsing against the same pillow Jean was rested upon. Not having released just how tired he was, Marco let his eyes fall closed a moment before remembering something. 

"Goodnight, Jean," he whispered, and Jean had just enough time to open his eyes see Marco kiss him gently atop the head before scooting back and away and letting himself fall asleep. Jean lay there a moment, curled into the pillow as he fought against the blush that heated his cheeks, and found himself wondering if maybe this hadn’t been the worst thing to ever happen to him after all

The next morning Marco awoke with the sun shining in his eyes. He groaned throwing a hand over his face, before moving to roll over. But when he tried, he found himself unable. He threw his hand away, anxiety building in his chest, before noticing a definitely larger Jean sleeping beside him, one arm thrown haphazardly across his stomach. Marco felt his breath hitch and his body go rigid at the sight.

"H-hey, Jean?" Marco stuttered, clearing his voice as he spoke, hoping the other would wake up soon. Jean did, however, and he blinked exhaustedly as he looked up into Marco’s blushing face. 

"What’s’matter?" Jean asked, words slurring as he pulled Marco closer to him. Marco felt his heart skip a beat. 

"I, uh, well-you," Marco began, not sure how to voice what he wanted to say. Jean had slowly begun to wake up during this process, properly this time, and when he noticed Marco’s nervous condition and how he practically had his arm wrapped around Marco’s waist he smiled. For a while, neither did anything except stare into each other’s eyes before Jean quickly pulled himself up onto Marco and nuzzled his face into the crook between the other’s neck and shoulder. To say Marco was surprised was an understatement. 

"Jean, what-?"

"Shh." Jean cut him off, burying himself into Marco even farther, and letting out an annoyed sighed, "It’s too early."

Marco took a moment, trying to comprehend what was going on, and Jean took the opportunity to nibble at the other’s skin teasingly. Marco let out a tiny shriek in reply.

"You think too much," Jean explained when Marco opened his mouth to ask what the hell Jean thought he was doing, "Go back to sleep."

Finding any sort of conversation impossible at the moment, Marco reluctantly subsided and allowed himself to ease into Jean comfortably, albeit a little awkwardly.

"We are going to talk about this later, though," Marco reminded, closing his eyes with a smile.

"Shush. Sleep. Now," Jean replied, voice mumbled against Marco’s shoulder.

"Yeah. Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for a Zombie!Marco ad Survivor!Jean loveliness! Enjoy :)

This was it. There was no where else for him to go. Jean squeezed himself as best he could in the space under the counter, trying his hardest to ignore the sound of rustling and movement in the other room He cursed the others for deciding to check the diner out under the pretense that maybe there was still food left inside. Jean had wanted to move on, not liking the desolate building with its boarded up windows and no visible path of escape. But Eren had insisted which meant Mikasa backed him up which meant no one had the gull to say no which in turn left Jean stuck inside some shitty old diner praying to god that none of the zombies decided to check the kitchen for their next meal. Which, if they had the brains, would be a logical step in their shuffling and shambling life but Jean was riding, and surviving, on the fact that they didn’t. 

Jean let out one uneven gasp after another as the minutes ticked by, trying his best to keep his breathing low and silent as adrenalin pumped through his veins. When he heard the door to the kitchen swing open though, the metal hinges echoing inside the metallic room, a loud strew of curse words left his mouth before he cocked his shotgun and jumped out to face whatever had come through the door. In a second, he was standing behind the counter, the barrel of his gun locked on his target, but before he could pull the trigger he found the zombie in front of him just standing and staring and looking, well, not very zombie like. 

Jean could tell it was a boy, even with the long gash that traveled down the side of the zombies face, creating a gap between the large mass of freckles that hovered over his cheeks. His face was pale, lips dark and eyes unfocused, but he didn’t move or attack or flee or anything. He just stared at Jean, and for some reason Jean just couldn’t shoot him. 

For a while the two just stared each other down, Jean hoping that any minute Eren or someone would rush back in and save his sorry ass just so he could bitch at all of them for running like cowards. But instead the zombie in front of him smiled, it fucking smiled, and moved to step toward Jean, who took a step back.

"Oh, no," Jean bit out, his voice hoarse from days of dehydration, "You’re not coming anywhere near me or I’ll blow your brains out." 

The zombie paused, as if understanding the other’s words, and stepped back to it’s original position. Jean let out the breath he’d been holding and began to ever so slowly maneuver his way to the door, gun trained on the zombie every step of the way. By the time Jean had reached the door, the zombie hadn’t so much as moved a single step; he just watched Jean with dark, lidded eyes and let him walk right out of the kitchen. 

And into another zombie who pounced on him the moment he pushed the swinging door aside. Jean let out a cry before collapsing under the weight of the attacking zombie, which growled and snarled at him as it’s unhinged jaw swung back and forth over Jean’s face. Jean pushed back, holding the zombie at bay long enough to grab the revolver strapped to his hip, place the barrel between the zombies eyes, and pull the trigger. The shot echoed inside the room, Jean feeling his head pound in retaliation, and then the diner was quiet and the zombie slumped against Jean. 

Letting out a disgusted grunt, Jean arduously pushed the undead dead thing off of him and allowed himself a moment to lay on the ground and just breathe. He closed his eyes a moment, hating Eren and Mikasa and everyone else who had left him in this hellhole of a place. When he opened his though he found the zombie from earlier hovering over him, a few drops of blood falling off his face and onto Jean’s shirt. 

"Hey!" Jean yelled, too tired to sit up and subdue the passive zombie, "This is the only nice shirt I have, alright?"

The zombie just stared and Jean realized the entire right side of his body was covered in blood, the wounds hidden beneath a dark t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. For a moment, Jean almost felt sorry for the thing and closed his eyes once more. He was just so done with everything. He was tired of running. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of everyone he knew and what was the point? To prolong the miserable and pointless life he was currently living? Fuck that. 

Jean heard a few shuffles and he really could’ve cared less in that moment if the stupid zombie above had decided to eat him right on the spot. But instead, when he opened his eyes, he found the zombie fucking laying next to him, head turned sideways and just looking at Jean with a sad, melancholic expression.

"You’re fucking weird, you know that?"

The zombie just stared, even blinking once if you could call it that, and Jean groaned and cursed the fact that the first friend he’d made in this hell would be a zombie, of course it would. 

A little over an hour later, Eren burst into the diner, followed my a determined Mikasa and a frightened Armin. When they entered, they had their weapons at the ready, prepared to fight off anything that got in the way of them and resucing their friend. What they found instead, was altogether something very very different.

"Oi, what took you losers so long? I almost got my face bitten off about an hour ago."

Jean was seated against the wall, shotgun resting beside him and revolver still lying next to the zombie he’d killed earlier. He had his legs crossed and his hands were running through the hair of some boy whose head was resting in his lap. But when they got closer, they saw the blood encasing the boy’s right side and the unresponsiveness in his face and Eren and Mikasa drew their own guns almost simultaneously.

"Now, I know what this looks like," Jean said calmly, throwing up his hands in surrender, "But he’s harmless. We’ve been sitting her for hours and he hasn’t made a move, ya know? Unlike you guys who couldn’t even bother to come back for me."

Eren and Mikasa didn’t move, guns trained on Jean and the boy, but Armin spoke up, voice light but determined. 

"J-Jean. You do know that’s a zombie, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Jean sighed, and the zombie looked up at him with sad eyes, "So can I keep him?"

Eren let out a groan and lowered his gun, Mikasa mirroring him with a look of confusion and horror. Armin just laughed nervously, not sure if Jean was joking or seriously considering taking on a zombie as a pet-friend-thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt fill for JeanMarco Olympic shenanigans! Im sorry but I can't not write Italian!Marco and French!Jean, it just happens

Jean let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, the cold air fogging around his mouth as he removed his helmet and goggles. He ran a hand through his helmet hair and straightened out what he could before dropping down to pick up his snowboard. When he looked up his score was presented on a giant screen above him, along with a play by play video of his last trick. The crowd went wild once again as Jean flawlessly completed an impressive backside 360. He couldn’t help the shit eating grin that grew on his face; he knew he was the best. 

"Impressive, Jean. Very impressive."

Jean knew that accent anywhere. When he looked down, he could see a man walking closer to him, the mass of freckles adorning two tan cheeks a dead giveaway. 

"Bonjour, Marco," Jean said, eyes shooting back toward the screen above him, "Came to see how it’s really done?"

"Si, certo," Marco replied, pushing his hood back to reveal his own helmet ridden hair, "But I’m also up soon so I thought I’d stop by and see how the competition’s looking."

Jean scoffed, “I’m not losing to you again this year, Bodt. I stepped up my game and you’re going down.”

Marco laughed a good natured laugh before resting a hand on his friends shoulder, “Good. The spirit of competition is within you Jean. It suits you.”

Jean couldn’t help but smile at the other’s slightly awkward english, “Whatever. Just don’t feel too bad when I wipe the floor with you.”

"Wipe the floor?" Marco asked, a confused tilt to his voice, but before Jean could explain Marco’s name was called and asked to be ready on standby. Beside them the crowd roared as another snowboarder took the half-pipe, a new girl by the name of Mikasa from Japan.

"It seems you may not be the only competition, my friend," Marco smiled as Jean watched the video of Mikasa with a sneer, scoffing when she pulled a perfect backside 360. 

"Yeah, well, you better get going," Jean muttered, pushing the other’s hand away, "You’re almost up."

"Yes, I guess I should," Marco sighed, pulling his goggles from out of his coat pocket, "Oh. I almost forgot."

Jean moved to ask what Marco could have possibly forgotten when he felt a pair of warm lips kiss the corner of his mouth just as quickly as they pulled away. The warmth lingered awhile though, contrasting against the bitter cold air, and Jean touched the spot absentmindedly.

"What the hell, Marco?" Jean sputtered, to which Marco just laughed and walked away waving.

"It’s for good luck!" 

Jean scowled, kicking at the snow with his boot, “But I already went!”

"Better late than never!" Marco yelled back before disappearing into the crowd, his dark hair bobbing between people as he moved toward his coach on the other side. He watched them talk for a while before seeing Marco’s coach point to the starting line. 

Jean stood still for a while, listening to the rush of the crowd and feeling the cool winter wind bite at his skin before sighing. 

"Je t’aime trop,” Jean muttered to himself, watching on the jumbo screen as Marco took the ready and was given the all clear. He burst out of the gate, gaining speed as he hit the first lip and the crowd went crazy. Jean watched as Marco landed perfectly before walking away, his snowboard leaving a shallow trail in the snow behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for succubus!Jean and Marco because why not :p

Marco tried his best not to laugh, he really did, but the man in front of him was too much. 

"So, uh, like I said. You. Me. Yeah?"

Marco barely collected himself before answering with a smile, “I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man groaned, running a distressed hand over his face, “Look. I can’t do my job if you don’t let me seduce you.”

Marco laughed, but then stopped when he saw the other’s face fall.

"Okay. Okay. Try again. I can do it," Marco promised, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

The man looked Marco up and down with a raised eyebrow before letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Fine," the man agreed, the two tiny horns peeking out through his ears glowing a faint red at the tips, "I hear freckles come from the kiss of an angel."

Marco waited a moment, wondering if the man had forgotten something, before feeling a hand cup his jaw tenderly and another dig into his hip, pulling him close. The man’s lips ghosted over Marco’s before pulling away and attacking right under his jawline.

"Ever wonder what the kiss of a devil might give you?" 

Marco tried to control it, he really did. But the laugh that erupted and shook his body was something he couldn’t hold back. The man watched the other a moment before pulling away with a growl. 

"Look, if you don’t want to-"

"No, no, no!" Marco said between laughs, "Look, I’m sorry. I really am. Maybe we can catch dinner sometime and you can try again?"

The man, trying his best to retain what little pride he had left, considered the offer a moment before replying, “Sure. Why the hell not.”

Marco clapped his hands together then with a smile, “Great! It’s a date. How about Friday? I know this great place a few blocks away.”

"Yeah. Whatever," the man huffed, the tips of his horns fading back to a solid black. Marco frowned, missing the tinge of pink on the ends. 

"Hey," Marco said, leaning close and pecking the man on the cheek chastely, "Your horns are really cute."

Marco watched the man fall silent as he pulled away, the other’s horn’s taking on a bright red hue. In an instant the man was gone, disappeared in a small wisp of smoke, and before Marco could be upset a small slip of paper floated down from the sky and written in terrible handwriting were the words, “I hate you - Jean.”

Marco couldn’t help the smile that creeped onto his face as he pocketed the small slip of paper and walked home, finding himself wondering about the strange horned man named Jean.


End file.
